


sirens don't play with their food

by milksodas



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Blood, Happy Halloween!, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Pirates, Sirens, Supernatural Elements, creative liberties taken from the curse of the black pearl, what if sirens were simply misunderstood?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:20:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27176468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milksodas/pseuds/milksodas
Summary: Above Wonwoo is someone--a man, he thinks--staring at him as though waiting for something. Wonwoo looks at him for a long moment, before realising just how heavy his limbs feel, and promptly closes them again. He’s tired.“Oh, good,” the man says mildly, no consideration for Wonwoo’s desire to fall asleep once more. His voice is deep and melodic, pretty. “I was hoping the rocks hadn't killed you.”
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45
Collections: SVT Fear Exchange





	sirens don't play with their food

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aeterna_nox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeterna_nox/gifts).



> happy halloween to my special giftee! you asked for siren junhui, and i sincerely hope i've done him justice in this <3 it's been a while since i participated in any kind of fic exchange, so i feel nervous posting this, but i really hope you enjoy this!
> 
> a special thank you to the mods for giving me an extension for this, as i would not have finished on time without it!

Wonwoo is no stranger to storms. For as long as he's been on the sea, he's encountered all kinds of horrific weather, had to constantly adapt and survive in the face of imminent danger, from nature and humankind alike. He's almost died, countless times, saved only by his crew or skill or sheer luck and strength of will alone.

Storms are nothing to someone like Wonwoo. He's navigated storms for years, robbed and pillaged in weather ill-suited for merchant vessels and navy ships but perfect for his crew, harnessing the wind to hit and run.

This one is different.

From the moment it rolls in, clouds dark and heavy on the horizon, Wonwoo senses something is wrong. There's something in the air, something more than electricity, sinking into Wonwoo and making his chest feel tight. He's at the bow when he sees it, with Vernon by his side and Seungkwan above them in the cockpit, tensing when he sees just how dark--almost black--the clouds are.

"That can't be good," Vernon mutters, "I've never seen anything that bad."

Wonwoo hums, scanning the waters. They're approaching a kind-of inlet, wide enough their ship would normally navigate it perfectly, no chance of running aground. With the storm coming in, Wonwoo isn't sure they'll make it at all.

"Go tell the men below to ready themselves," he says, turning to face Vernon, who nods diligently. "We'll need to move carefully."

Vernon salutes Wonwoo as he leaves, a habit he still hasn't trained himself out of despite Wonwoo urging him to, and Wonwoo is left alone at the bow. He doesn't wait long, moving back himself to take refuge in his quarters.

Before he can get far, a call from Seungkwan catches his attention. Seungkwan is focused on something in the distance, something Wonwoo can't see on his own.

"You see anything?" he calls, waiting for Seungkwan to reply.

Before he can, though, something else happens, something Wonwoo doesn't see but Seungkwan does. As though possessed, he drops the telescope, stumbling into the center of the crow's nest and pulling something from his pockets, stuffing them in his ears. The telescope shatters on the deck at Wonwoo's feet.

He's bending to pick it up when the wind changes.

"Sirens!" Seungkwan cries, in the far distance, but by then it's too late.

The sirens begin to sing, and it is as though Wonwoo is plunged into icy waters, submerged below the surface with no idea which way is up or how far down he is. A small part of his consciousness tells him to fight, tells him to snap out of whatever he can feel coming over him, but the siren's voice washes over him, clear and crystalline and so incredibly  _ tempting.  _ He moves, stumbling, to starboard, hands settling on the railing before strong arms wrap around him, yanking him back.

In his haze, he sees Vernon, ears stuffed with something. None of that matters, though, not when the siren is still singing, still calling out to him. In a fit of strength he hadn't known himself capable of, he shoves Vernon off him, sending him sprawling across the deck, winded. This time, he clambers over the edge, not a moment passing before he's jumping into the frigid sea below.

He doesn't remember anything from there on out.

* * *

The first thing Wonwoo registers when he comes to is the ground beneath him, cold and wet and hard, digging into his back painfully enough he could almost believe it will bruise. The second thing he registers is just how wet  _ he  _ is, soaked through, shivering and cold. He tastes salt when he licks his lips, dry despite how thoroughly damp the rest of him is. 

He opens his eyes, the sun blinding him for a moment before they adjust to the sudden bright light. Above him is someone--a man, he thinks--staring at him as though waiting for something. Wonwoo looks at him for a long moment, before realising just how heavy his limbs feel, and promptly closes them again. He’s tired.  “Oh, good,” the man says mildly, no consideration for Wonwoo’s desire to fall asleep once more. His voice is deep and melodic, pretty even by Wonwoo’s standards. “I was hoping the rocks hadn't killed you.”

“Who are you?” Wonwoo asks, his voice rough. His heat hurts like hell on earth, and his entire body aches.

“My name…” the man says, haltingly, as though not wanting to divulge too much, “is Junhui.”

Wonwoo scans his features, tensing when he sees he has feathered wings, dark and inky blue. His headache worsens. “You’re a siren.”

“I suppose I am," Junhui replies, all too calmly. 

Wonwoo's hand drifts to his scabbard--except he’s _not wearing it,_ and as a result has no weapons on him. “What did you do to my crew?” he asks sharply.

“Your crew will be fine,” Junhui pauses, then settles his gaze on Wonwoo. “If you trust them to have made it out of the storm.”

There’s a moment of silence as Wonwoo processes what Junhui has told him. 

“You’re Jeon Wonwoo, aren’t you?” Junhui says, before Wonwoo can think to do something drastic. Wonwoo freezes in his movements, staring warily at Junhui. 

“How did you know,” he says, stiff. He tries to elevate himself to his elbows, but a sharp pain in his ribs stops him. Junhui hums, and Wonwoo finds himself suddenly unable to move. “ _ What did you do? _ ”

“You need to recover first,” Junhui says, a non-answer that Wonwoo doesn’t have the chance to call out before Junhui begins to hum, a soothing melody that washes over Wonwoo like his voice had before, the song pulling him under. Wonwoo feels his eyes drifting shut, sleep taking over. 

* * *

He wakes up on the same cold, wet stone as before, feeling marginally less like he had just died. He's able to push himself up into a seated position, most of his weight being held by his arms which, despite being covered in a litany of cuts that sting from the salt water, feel stronger than the rest of him. Junhui is perched nearby, in a weird crouch. The air smells fishy--he has a fish in one hand, gutted and descaled.

“You need to eat,” Junhui says helpfully. The fish is raw, but Wonwoo takes what he can get, suddenly realising he’s starving. There’s no possible way to cook it, anyway, not when the weather is like this. The fish is gone in five minutes. Wonwoo's eaten worse.

“Do you feel better?” Junhui asks. He almost sounds nervous.

Wonwoo nods, wary. “How long has it been?”

“A week, I think. Maybe longer. You humans don’t recover nearly as quickly as I thought you might. I almost thought you were dead.”

“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo says, sleepy, then remembers Junhui is the reason he’s injured in the first place. “You know, if you didn’t want me almost dead you shouldn’t have let me dash myself on the rocks.”

The last thing he sees before drifting off again is the frown on Junhui’s face.

* * *

Junhui keeps sending Wonwoo to sleep before nightfall, waking him up when the sun is already high in the sky. Wonwoo is too injured to do much but accept it, accept the minimal care Junhui provides--he doubts the siren has much knowledge in medicine, anyway--but he can’t help but feel wary. 

After all, sirens don’t play with their food.

“What do you want from me?” he asks one afternoon, as he scarfs down another fish that Junhui has found.

Junhui laughs nervously, a chittering sound reminiscent of some kind of bird. “I’ll tell you when we leave.”

“Leave?”

“Yes, in a few days. A week. Something like that.” Junhui shifts around, his wings fluttering. 

“Where are we going?”

Junhui’s expression shutters. “Somewhere.”

“Is this why you haven’t killed me yet?”

“No,” Junhui says, firmly. “I like you.”

* * *

They leave two days later, once Wonwoo feels well enough to move; clambering across rocks and earth until they have no choice but to start swimming, which they manage right up until another bank, whereupon Wonwoo promptly collapses on the ground. They’ve been swimming for hours, and he’s never had to exert this much physical energy in one go before.

“You need to build up your stamina,” Junhui huffs, his wings fluffing up in a way that’s probably supposed to be threatening. “It’s going to take us weeks at this rate.”

“Why don’t you fly us?” Wonwoo asks.

Junhui glares at him. “Do these wings look like they’re for flying?” 

Wonwoo takes the time to get a good look at Junhui, something he hasn’t done since meeting him. He looks… almost human, maybe. Junhui’s body is much like that of a human’s, but his hands and feet are webbed and clawed, much like that of an aquatic bird. 

Before Wonwoo’s father had disappeared, he had returned from a journey to a new land with a drawing of an animal no one had ever seen before; its head was like that of a duck, but its body was covered in the fur of a cat, its body resembling that of a beaver than anything else. Its feet were clawed and webbed, too, with poisonous spurs on its hind legs that were powerful enough 

Wonwoo felt that Junhui--sirens, in general, he supposed--were like that: identifiable as  _ sort of human  _ but with enough  _ not  _ that they seemed… unreal. Maybe Junhui had poisonous spurs on his legs, too.

Junhui sings him to sleep again, and Wonwoo welcomes it.

* * *

“There was a curse,” Junhui admits quietly, two weeks into their journey.

(Wonwoo thinks it’s been two weeks. It’s not like he has any way of keeping count besides whatever he remembers.)

“A… curse?”

Junhui nods stiffly. His wings curl around him, as though protecting him. “Your father--”

“My father died years ago,” Wonwoo interrupts. “He was lost at sea and never returned.”

Junhui stares at him. “He wasn’t lost. He found us.”

Wonwoo reels back, but finds he can’t say anything. Junhui takes the chance to continue.

“We didn’t kill him, not right away; he promised us… many things. Treasure. People. Food. Stories. In return we gave him shelter from the spirits he claimed were after him. If we knew he was cursed--had cursed  _ himself,  _ we would have killed him. But we were blinded by so many good things. At first, our hunger only grew. We became greedy, craving more and more, but as our cravings heightened we began to realise that no food would sustain us, that we couldn’t  _ feel  _ anything. Our skin turned to bone in the moonlight.

“When we realised what had happened, we threw your father into the ocean, tied rocks to him and let him sink to the very bottom. He had already told us where he was cursed. We knew we had to return everything he had stolen. It wasn’t until we arrived, returning everything, that we realised we still could not break it.”

“And how do you break the curse?” Wonwoo whispers. He thinks he knows the answer, already. 

“With blood.”

(Wonwoo doesn’t fall asleep before night falls, this time. Instead, he watches as the moon brightens up the sky, and Junhui’s skin melts away to reveal nothing but bone, stark white against his dark feathers. He almost glows in the moonlight, and Wonwoo finds himself unable to breathe.)

* * *

“So how did you know who I was?” Wonwoo asks the question after Junhui finds a place for them to sleep tonight. They’re finally almost there: one more night, Junhui had promised earlier, and then they would arrive. The others would be there, he’s been told. They always stay there, Junhui says, since they found the place. 

“You smelled like your father,” Junhui says.

Wonwoo decides not to question it. Instead he shoots a small grin at Junhui and asks, “How do I smell now?”

Junhui sniffs the air, then grimaces. “Like bad fish.”

Wonwoo barks out a laugh, the loudest he’s been since he found Junhui. 

* * *

  
  


Junhui is true to his word, and they step into a large cavern after another day of travelling. 

“ _ God, _ ” Wonwoo breathes. “It’s--”

“Beautiful, isn’t it? It’s supposed to be tempting. To curse as many people as possible.” Junhui tugs Wonwoo's hand back before he can touch any of the treasures, shaking his head. A warning.

“How do I…”

Junhui’s hand wraps around Wonwoo’s wrist, effectively cutting him off, and drags him towards a chest filled with coins. His hand is shockingly warm, for someone who lives by the sea. When he lets go, Wonwoo almost misses the feeling.

“Hold out your hand.”

Across the cavern, Wonwoo spots another pair of eyes. A figure emerges from the shadow, a siren not unlike Junhui, but whose feathers gleam a deep blood red instead of Junhui’s inky blue. Wonwoo’s neck prickles with the feeling that there are more sirens nearby, watching him from where they lurk in the shadows.

Junhui spots the other siren, then makes a kind of sharp chirping sound in his direction. The siren slinks back into the shadows. Humming, Junhui turns back to Wonwoo with an expectant look on his face.

Wonwoo holds his hand out, lets it above the chest. Junhui grasps his wrist, and with one confident swipe, tears a wound into Wonwoo’s palm. It stings, and Wonwoo watches as his blood drips onto the coins, staining the gold a deep red. 

“Did it work?” Wonwoo asks.

Junhui doesn’t answer him, staring at a space behind Wonwoo. In the centre of the cavern, there’s a hole in the ceiling. Right now, it’s letting in a stream of moonlight. It feels brighter than the torches lining the walls. Junhui walks towards it, slowly, hesitantly. He reaches out a hand, first, then steps fully into the moonlight. 

Nothing happens.

Wonwoo feels his mouth widen into a grin. He stares at Junhui, triumphant glee mirrored across both their faces.

* * *

“You're leaving soon, aren't you," Junhui mutters, so quiet Wonwoo is the only one who hears.

“I could stay," Wonwoo says, despite knowing he can't. "I can’t deny I’ve become… fond of you.”

Junhui shakes his head. “You have to leave. What about your crew?”

"They don't need me," he replies weakly. It's a lost battle before it's even begun, with Junhui pressing him towards the entrance of the cavern.

“I can take you some of the way," he says. Promises. "But you’ll be on your own after that.”

“I suppose that will do,” Wonwoo says. Junhui’s face looks striking in the moonlight. 

Wonwoo leans forward, and, before he can convince himself not to, presses a kiss to Junhui’s cheek. He wants to do more, he thinks, but stops himself. 

“Take me home,” he whispers instead.

(They find themselves on a small island, close enough to land that someone will find Wonwoo in no time at all, and Junhui sings to him, and Wonwoo feels his legs moving away, until he’s lost sight of the siren, until he’s so far away he can no longer hear Junhui’s song. Something sharp is digging into his hip, and when he looks he sees a dark, inky blue feather tucked into his waistband.)

**Author's Note:**

> [a] i took a lot of liberties with the depiction of sirens here to suit what i wanted. the winged, bird-like sirens are my favourite kind, junhui's species(?) of siren would likely be found in the southern hemisphere, with features more similar to that of a penguin, including the feathers, which are very different to bird feathers you would find in your garden. they're hydrophobic & grow in a pattern optimised to keep out water from the inner layers of feathers and skin, which is very insulative, and also why they can't fly. the feathers & junhui's wings are more useful for swimming under water, and can also be used as insulation in particularly cold weather. so yes, junhui is part penguin, in essence.
> 
> [b] the speech about the curse is (somewhat) ripped from pirates of the caribbean (not word for word, because i didn't want to look up the quote and actually write it), because it's a franchise i like & once the idea of skeletal, bird-like sirens entered my brain i simply had to do something about it.


End file.
